Spider Man: A Goblin with PR
by Zhelezo
Summary: All I've got for you now is a Prologue. Spider-Man's Green Goblin seeks out a new inheritor of the Green Goblin name. You'll love who! Chapter one tries to be funny and violent. M rating for violence.


The Green Goblin was destroying the city again.

With a flick of his wrist, a pumpkin bomb popped into his palm. He dropped it, and an apartment far below was reduced to rubble. Then Spider-Man was there, flying through the skies on a wire-thin strand of webbing. Acrobatic in his grace. The Green Goblin twitched his left foot, boosting power in the right engine of his glider. At speeds that an attack helicopter would envy the marvel of human ingenuity swung around to charge the swinging spider, gleaming glider blades leading the way. The laugh of the goblin was lost on the wind, but still it unfurled from him, an involuntary reflex at this point.

"Really? All of this again? Hey, is there some super villain policy against learning lessons?" Spiderman dropped his line of webbing, sending two more into the goblins glider. With the grace of an Olympian he transferred momentum into acceleration, swinging underneath the glider to land with both feet on the goblin's spine. By this point, the tensile strength of the armor was second nature to him, and he applied only enough strength to wrench the goblin off. Had he applied more, the man's spine would have been liquefied.

His cackle was cut off in a strangled gasp of pain. Both of his back plates had shattered, and the throbbing area told him that it would be forming an unsightly bruise for the next week. The Green Goblin was falling to the street below, the 200-ish feet fall half gone in a little over two seconds. By then his hand had found his forearm, opened the control panel and summoned his glider. All of this came down to muscle memory, though the first time he made this maneuver the pavement had scraped his helmet.

The human body could only fall so fast, unaided by propulsion as it was. His glider caught up to him in less than a second, electromagnets clamped his feet to the machine, and the Green Goblin leveled out 30 feet above the street.

"HAHAHAHA-HaHaHaHa!" He cackled, flicking his wrist in an all-too-familiar way, cradling the beautiful weight of his pumpkin bomb. The glider swept around, angling back around to face the Spider-Man.

Then a familiar pair of feet smashed into his side. A startled noise left his mouth, and the pumpkin bomb was dropped. His glider spun, the electromagnets using the most optimal option to ensure that staying on the board would not be borderline lethal, while simultaneously operating the thrusters on a microscopic scale to disperse the force and keep the user on-board. Unlike last time, it proved possible now, and the Green Goblin went spinning. But advanced as the board was, it couldn't account for foreign objects, and the Green Goblin felt an object the approximate size and shape of a tennis ball.

"Shit." He hissed, before his pumpkin bomb exploded against his ankle. A cloud of green filled the sky, and nothing the board could do would keep the user on, so the clamps were disengaged and his body was thrown into the pavement like a bright green meteor. Spiderman was clipped by the blast, and the web-slinging hero was thrown through a nearby window. Inside, a woman screamed, but the Green Goblin was busy getting his thoughts together as his suit ran damage control.

State of the art armor still was not invulnerable, and his ankle was broken in at least three places. A neural spike pierced his skull, draining the concussion and releasing an injection to stabilize brain activity for the next four hours. Coming down off of it was awful, but when you fought with superhumans concussions were like any other scrape. If you couldn't handle it, you weren't cut out for this world. Meanwhile, his ankle was washed in a cool sensation as sealant gel plugged the leak in his suit and simultaneously locked the fractured bones in place. The ad-hoc fixup would need to be specially deconstructed in his laboratory surgical suite, and reattaching bones was a process that took all night. He also couldn't feel his toes. Problems for later.

The Green Goblin was stable, and he stood strong on two more or less working feet as the Spider-Man darted out of the window wearing a curtain as a cape. He flipped into the street, landing silently, cape fluttering behind him. It was floral print, and up close Green Goblin realized it was a shower curtain instead of curtains. Then he began to talk again.

"Again and again and again, don't you get tired of losing? Do I need to cut you some slack, because this is starting to feel like bullying."

Spiderman was charging him, but Green Goblin was prepared for this. In the air, the Spider-Man had reflexes and agility which made him near unbeatable. On the ground, Green Goblin would have a chance. Thanks to the black concoction currently running through his veins. Inside the suit, Norman Osborn blinked as his pupils dilated and the sun suddenly became a thousand times brighter. Beneath his feet, the pavement cracked as his muscles suddenly tensed with a strength far greater than they were before. In his brain, a healthy mix of opioids and methamphetamines had turned him into a creature that felt no pain, even as it moved with such strength that even a power-freak like Rhino would feel scared. Of course, no human consciousness could handle such a combination. But Osborn had a uniquely powerful subconscious, and when the drugs came in, his Id took over completely.

The Green Goblin was fully freed. "HEE HEE Spider-Man! Come and meet your doom!"

"Ugh, give it up, we've done this-" Spiderman was delivering a trademarkable taunt, when the same fist that he had leisurely dodged for the last decade caught him square in the chest. It was faster than Doc Ock's tentacles, and hit like a curb stomp from Rhino. He went flying across the street, skipping across the pavement and ripping his suit in three places. He might have kept going, if he hadn't crashed into a brick building. "Cough… I don't remember you hitting like that… Been working out?"

Glowing green eyes stared down at him. "You could say that. You could say I've made some MUCH needed improvements…" Then his gloves crackled with electricity, and the Green Goblin shot forward like a cheetah, open palm shooting towards spiderman's throat.

* * *

Minutes before the fight, a few blocks over.

"Come on Murph! We've got the day to ourselves, we should be celebrating! We gotta do something!"

"I told ya Jernes, I'm visiting my ma. Then we can go wherever you like. Just keep your pants on and that mouth a yers shut!"

"But Murph, you know I can't resist a home cooked meal! That's why Quin's here too, ey big guy?"

Jernes nudged the guy next to him, a bear-like fellow who looked like he could eat cinderblocks for breakfast. That big square jaw nodded slightly, and the man named Jernes nodded in tandem.

"See what I mean?"

The trio was walking down the street, wearing army fatigues and a Fort Hamilton patch. None of them could be called small, though Murph was shorter than Jernes by an inch or two. Each of them had seen the benefits of military training, so none were lacking in the muscle department. While walking down the streets of a rather poor neighborhood, anyone looking for trouble rapidly crossed to the other side. Nobody wanted to mess with a trio who could probably bench your whole crew. Their conversation devolved into jokes tossed around with familiar ease, and though Quinn only added a couple to the pile, his earned no less laughter (and sometimes more).

They were in the midst of laughing, eyes alight with delighted sparkles, faces relaxed in the broadest grins they could manage. Then there was an explosion from the next block over.

Quin frowned, looking for all the world like a Grizzly woken out of hibernation by a yuppie with a stick. Jernes sighed, crossed the street, and shook down the nearest shady looking fucker for his knife and wallet. But the biggest change was in Murph. You see, his mother's house lay in that same direction. He started running, pausing only to yank a pair of items out of the nearest alleyway. A battered steel trash can lid, and a rusted segment of metal pipe. He had done more with less.

Quin was on his heels, though Jernes was nowhere to be seen as they left him far behind. The two trained soldiers came onto the scene as a building was toppled from the inside by a series of impacts which shook the entire foundation. Spiderman, infamous New York hero/menace dove out of a window, followed by a humanoid figure in 7 feet of dull green armor with glowing eyes and hands which crackled like a pair of tasers. It leapt after Spiderman, smashing both fists into the road with enough force that Murph doubted the city would fix it within the next six months. That's right, he left two potholes in the road.

Spiderman snapped a kick into the figures chin, launching it back at least ten feet, but the armored figure was up and charging in less than a second. The Army personnel stared in wide-eyed wonder at a man in heavy armor that could outrun Usain Bolt. Then they picked sides.

Only one person was causing collateral damage after all, and if Spiderman could be seen as a hero/villain, Green Goblin was a well known Villain/Total Twat. Murph led the way, closing to land a solid hit with his pipe between the Goblin's shoulders. He felt a solid clank and knew immediately his attack had been somewhat less than effective. Then a fist so fast it blurred was barely stopped by his trash lid. The fist went right through it, and if it had gone an inch forward it would have pierced Murph's ribcage like an arrow through tissue paper. The residual force of it knocked the lid out of his hand and tossed the 175 pound man to the floor.

For all his efforts, now Green Goblin had a trash can stuck on his fist. A yank with his free hand sent scraps of steel flying. Quin was not idle through this, and after obtaining a suitable cinderblock he started spinning. Three years of shotput in high school sent the block flying into Green Goblin's ribcage. When the puff of scattered concrete dust cleared, there was a lot of broken rubble at the Villains feet, but nothing worse than a few scratches left on the armor.

Glowing eyes locked onto a new target, the beings that interfered with his victory over the Spider-Man. He took three monstrous steps towards the big one, right hand already pulled back for a blow that would plaster the roads in fleshy human bits.

"BWOOOOOOOK"

In his hyper alert state, the Green Goblin heard the sound in every crevasse of his skull. For an instant his Id was in disarray, struggling to gather enough control to run its body. By the time it saw the truck, it was too late to dodge. A 2003 Chevy Silverado nailed him in the middle of the road doing 40 miles over the speed limit. In this residential area, that was about 70, but the effect remained the same. The Green Goblin was forced against the grill by the impact, though the force was still hardly enough to actually harm him. He was lifting both hands to pry the engine out, with violent intention for the stupid cretin who decided to hit him with a truck, before the truck found its happy home in the house behind Green Goblin. The engine was already burning, so Jernes merrily hopped out of the drivers seat.

"Hey Guys! So I was stealing a knife, when I thought… This guys got a drivers license in his wallet. Glad everything worked out and nobody got hurt-"

"I WILL RIP YOUR SKULL FROM YOUR BODY!" The truck was tossed across the street and into the next intersection. There was brick dust and gasoline on the dull armor, and more than a few of the abdominal plates were cracked, but otherwise the Green Goblin was unscathed.

"What the hell is that armor made of?!" Jernes was quite vocal in his disappointment. This shit just wasn't fair. He drew the knife from his pocket, hoping that he could get a lucky shot into something when the freak rushed them.

Green Goblin began his charge, blood pouring from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth. His heart was beating at 270 beats per minute, and his liver had entered the early stages of failure. But he had learned, and this time when the Spider-Man tried to blindside him with a punch, he was ready. He stepped back, dodging the fist and watching as it narrowly missed his helmet. His own open palm struck Spiderman in the chest, and now when he went down he couldn't get up.

The pavement fractured where Spiderman landed, splintering like his ribcage.

"YEEEEEESS! I've done it! Victory is mine!" His jubilant cheer was met with the sharp crack of fireworks and party poppers. It took his Id a second to sort out all the chaos, sifting through brain trauma and mild hallucinations for peripheral data. A report came from the kidneys of serious trauma, and it finally put everything together.

Six people stood nearby. Three were the men in army clothes, armed with the most miserable of makeshift weapons. Two were civilians filming from hidden locations with camcorders. But the last was a new arrival, entering through the throng of fleeing civilians from the rubble of the destroyed apartment building. He was balding, late forties, with a white golf club T-shirt and brown Khakis. There was a gun in his hand, and he had just fired three shots at the temporarily still Green Goblin. Two had missed. One had cleanly pierced a battered plate, entering his lower back where it was trapped by the intact plate covering his front.

Inside of the Green Goblin, a bullet had crossed the underside of his rib cage three times. One of his kidneys had ceased to exist. His diaphragm was ripped. His intestines had been torn, and internal bleeding had begun. But the suits restorative functions had filled the soupy void with the medical equivalent of gelatin powder, trapping everything in stasis until he could go home. His Id said "Good to Go" despite the pain which came with every breath, something that he could feel even through the opioids.

He rushed the cop, and another six bullets glanced off his chestplate. Had they penetrated, they would have been lethal, but they were all in strong condition. Green Goblin grabbed the plainclothes officer, taking two more shots point blank to the chest before he could snap the annoying man's neck. His chestplate was split in the center, but all enemies had been disposed of. Except for three unarmed, unequipped, normal people. The Green Goblin could take his time with them.

But why would he do that? He rushed them. With every thundering step his feet broke pieces out of the roadway, using that impact to propel his own momentum.

"Scatter!" Bellowed Quin, and he quickly shoved his stunned friends out of the way. Then Green Goblin hit him, and fragments of his ribs blew out of his chest in a puff of bloody mist. Blood filled his lungs instantly, and he could feel his heart beat start to spasm. Then Quin grabbed the Green Goblin's skull with both of his ham-sized palms, entwined his fingers, and started to squeeze.

Immediately the Green Goblin felt warning sirens blare inside his helmet. One of his lenses shattered. He could feel a crushing weight on each temple. A thought shifted the setting on his electric hands, and the crackle became a hum. His fingers glowed red hot, and with a single swipe both of Quin's hands fell to the floor, each stump neatly cauterized.

Even superhuman determination had its limits. Quin collapsed. Blood ran out of his chest and pooled in the street.

The Green Goblin wouldn't get the time to gloat. Murph drove a segment of rusted pipe through the flexible material which covered his armpit, and opioids or not, Green Goblin screamed when the pipe fragments scraped against his collarbone. He reflexively swatted Murph with the attacked hand, causing even more damage before the pipe piece fell out. But Jernes wasn't doing nothing. He had been scraping the knife against the fractured back panels, searching out the most damaged point worth damaging.

"Gotcha you son of a bitch!" He shouted, before driving his palm against the knife hilt. Three of his wrist bones broke, but the blade had found purchase. It ripped cleanly through the vertebrae between his shoulders, cutting off all communication between brain and lower body.

The Green Goblin dropped like a stone, struggling to breath before suit controls switched all bodily functions to manual control. His hands lashed out, sweeping the knee of the soldier behind him. The man screamed as he fell, and Green Goblin moved in for the kill.

"Thunk! Thunk Thunk Thunk!"

He spun, trying to spot this new annoyance. Behind him a crowd of people had gathered, each carrying crude weapons. One of them was wearing a yellow hard hat and rocking a bushy biker moustache. "Fuck off." He declared, and the crowd cheered. This man was carrying a Nailgun, and while Green Goblin was analyzing the man started shooting him in the face, neck, and shoulders. His addled mind was still thinking when one of the shots pierced his cracked eye panel, stopping less than 2 millimeters from his eye. That settled it.

"I'll be back Spider-Man! I'll be back!" He cackled as his wobbly glider, now traveling as fast as an electric car, scooped him up and flew off. More nails bounced off the glider and his battered body, and a few rocks were thrown his way.

On the ground below, cries for paramedics began to echo.

* * *

At the Osborn mansion, six days later.

"Damn You Spider-Man!" Norman swept a desk clear, scattering countless hours of serum and research notes. He was swathed in bandages, unable to feel twenty percent of his lower body. The loss of a kidney and serious damage to his other organs had made another use of the superhuman concoction impossible. Never again would he be able to stress his heart, or the entire thing could simply fall apart. If he even got overly angry it could kill him. Any exercise that overly stressed his body would cause his muscle tissue to literally unravel, all that super strength had destroyed huge swathes of his connective tissue.

Now he was stuck staring at the suit.

He couldn't be the Green Goblin anymore. What was even the point? His last fight had also been his closest. Spider-Man was beaten! Defeated by his own hands! But before he could solidify his victory he was stopped. Stopped by nobodies! By people with even less to their skillset than he! Losing to Spider-Man was a fact of life, the guy was nearly unstoppable despite his playful attitude. But losing to normal humans?

It burned him. It burned like the scars where a third of his intestinal tract used to be. He had lost, and all because the public had helped Spider-Man. When did the pubic grow to love him so much?

"It's not that they love him. They just hated me…" Looking back on it, it was easy to see why they hated him. Bombs from the sky was a little too terrorist. Then and there Norman made up his mind. He would destroy the Spider-Man. But since he could not do it… He would pass his powers to one who could.

This someone would be chosen by careful consideration. He would seek out someone who could not only defeat the Spider-Man, but someone who could turn the world against him first.

"Yessss. The same people who dragged me down will be turned against you, Spider-Man! AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!" Demented cackling echoed late into the night.

* * *

Six months later, Office Building on 39th Street and Second Avenue.

"Package for you Mister Jameson."


End file.
